The Short Falls are the Hardest
by Ms. May
Summary: Lovino Vargas is rich kid, grandson of the Mafia Don, who likes to drive his sports cars too fast. Antonio Carriedo has recently taken some time off from his duties as a federal agent to relax as a local traffic cop. When they meet, old memories begin to fight their way to the surface after years of repression. Between the Mafia and their own regret, will the two ever get together?
1. When You Step Up to the Edge

Hi there. I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters in any way shape or form.

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There were three things in this world that could please Lovino Vargas.

The first, was getting his job done. A workaholic by no means, Lovino Vargas did not particularly enjoy his job. But when he finished a job, the felling was like jumping off a cliff. For just a few moments it was just him, in the air. It was a few seconds of glorious freedom, before the weight of life came crashing all around him again, pulling him under. That, and the paychecks weren't bad.

The second, were his cars, no, not his cars. To call them something so common was a disgrace. They were his children, his lovers, his religion. The Pope could save his soul, but only the wheel of his Ferrari Italia could set it free. The feel of his hand on the transition, squeezing the clutch as he shifted gears, and the speed, nothing put him in a good mood like speeding.

The third thing the could please Lovino Vargas was a pretty face. As you've probably deduced from the above statements, Lovino Vargas was a man of Italy, and therefore a man of taste. He liked his Italian cars, his Italian wine, and most importantly he liked his Italian shoes. But when it came to people, he was surprisingly open. All it took was a pretty smile, pretty hips, a pretty wink. Yes Lovino Vargas like that very much and he liked to play the game that went with it. Because really, he had a very pretty face too, and pretty hips, and a pretty wink. It didn't mean anything, and he liked it that way. He liked being free.

It had been a hard day at work so Lovino Vargas was taking advantage of thing number two. The highway was deserted anyway, just an empty straight shot as far as he could see. There were no cars coming around the bend to worry about. It was just him and the road.

Outside his widows the land turned into one long blur, a grassy green, with swirls of blue sky. His stress raced by too, all the plans that were made for his work, and the preparations for the upcoming work social. That, he hated most of all. He hated people, hated them, especially the people he worked with. God, what he wouldn't give to just shoot every single client in the fucking face. Their fake ass smiles all wiped away, their shitty ass small talk cut off before they even got the chance to speak. Lovino drove faster, trying to put some distance between him and his work life. There was nothing for miles, all he had to do was think about that nothing. There were no other cars, no buildings, no cops. . . oh shit.

No sooner had he thought the words than a siren roared to life. For a second, Lovino contemplated trying to outrun those flashing lights. He could. He bet if he tried he could . . . But no. He didn't have the guts for that right now. Plus it was only a fucking ticket. Not like he'd actually have to pay the stupid thing anyway.

Lovino gutted the engine. He sat staring blankly out the window, his high totally gone. The officer knocked on the window. Without looking, Lovino rolled them down. Hopefully it was a lady; maybe then he could charm his way out of a stupid-

"Hola!" A man, tall, dark and handsome leaned down the peer through his window. The man waved, and smiled like they were old friends that just met at a coffee bar or something. For a second Lovino, couldn't think of anything to say. Why was this cop so fucking friendly? It was unnatural. "You were driving pretty fast there." He nodded and looked back down the road, remembering that very short and very uninteresting car chase that had happened just a second before.

"So what if I fucking was?" Lovino challenged. He was not dealing with this shit. He was not going to make small talk with the emerald-eyed asshole who pulled him over.

"Um . . . Well, you see, that's kind of illegal." The man's voice was smooth, and has a tenor to it that vibrated the air.

"Why the fuck should I care about some bullshit law." Lovi sneered. He should be allowed to drive his fucking beautiful car as fast as he fucking wanted to, whenever he fucking wanted too.

"The law is there to protect people." He rolled his r a little bit, unintentionally. There was something strangely familiar about the way he did that.

"It's a fucking empty high way, it's not like there's anyone even fucking here, bastard!" A second after he said it, Lovino regretted it. His grandfather always said his mouth would get him in trouble, and just the f-bomb alone had been enough to set off some other cops. However this guys didn't seem the least bit phased.

"You've really got a mouth on you, don't you?" The cop scratched his head as if something about that statement didn't make sense. This guy must have been a fucking idiot.

"No shit Sherlock." And then the guy laughed, like Lovino had just told a joke or something.

"Oh, mi Dio, you're brave! I don't think I've ever gotten so much lip in my life!" And then he kept laughing, like that was funny, like Lovino's flagrant disregard for his authority was funny. That too was familiar. The vague sense of remembrance made Lovino uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. If he remembered a cop, that couldn't have been good.

"Look, can we just get this shit over with? I have places to be." The sassy Italian crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his finer.

"Lo siento. Can I have your ID?" Finally, Jesus, if he had to stare into that smile any longer, Lovino was sure he would go blind. No one's smile should have been that fucking bright. Lovino reached into his pocked and drew out his wallet, flicking through its contents and grabbing the first fake ID he laid his hands on. He held it out to the officer, who took it and looked between the picture and Lovino.

"Your name is Romano?" Lovino nodded. He wished he had pulled a different ID. That one was old, and had a bit of a record on it. Well, it's not like it was that big a deal. The ticket probably wasn't that much, just a couple hundred dollars. He'd have to pay it if he didn't want any questions.

The sound of ripping paper drew him from his thoughts. The officer tore off the ticket and was about to reach out his hand. Then, something seemed to catch the officer's eye, and he paused, hand extended mid-way. Their eyes locked, and the officer seemed to be searching for something. Those green eyes, there was something about them. Perhaps-

"Have we . . . have we met before?" The officer spoke without breaking eye contact. Something akin to dread settled in the pit of Lovino's stomach.

"What?" The question was a gag reflex, a panicked reaction to realizing that he and this stranger just had the same thought.

"It's just that." And now he seemed embarrassed, or maybe just perplexed. It was hard to tell, his eyebrows knit together, and he broke eye contact. But soon he took Lovino's gaze again. "I get this feeling like I've met you before." There was silence between them, because for the life of him, Lovino couldn't come up with a coherent answer. Obviously he had never met this dipshit. He would remember. But at the same time, there was a voice in his head screaming yes.

"I. . .don't think so." He managed. Don't be stupid Lovi, of course you've never met this man. Those chills, those feelings were nothing.

"Of course, my bad. Sometimes even I don't know what goes on in my head." He laughed, almost nervously. "Drive safe Romano!" The officer handed Lovino the ticket, and as he did so, their hands brushed.

There were three feelings Lovino Vargas would never forget.

One: During his first ever job, at the behest of the Borgia boy, son of a client, he jumped, from the ledge of a cliff while everyone else was away getting smashed. He jumped and never looked back, and he had won.

Two: The feel of a stolen Lamborghini Aventador, that bewitching, electrifying, thing, as it raced down the Via Appia, towards the deserted streets of Pompeii. No one could catch him.

Three: When he was barely sixteen, the summer before his junior year, he lost his virginity to the Spanish pool boy he had been madly in love with. Nothing had ever felt so good.

And the morning, when he woke up alone . . . nothing had ever felt so terrible. Like some twisted figment of Lovino's imagination, the pool boy disappeared, never to be seen again.

As Lovino Vargas started his car with a ticket he'd never pay in his hand, there was a tingle down his back. It was like when his feet kicked pebbles off the edge, the sound of hydraulic doors opening, and the gaze of that boy he'd loved best on his back. It passed as soon as he realized it was there. When he looked back that traffic cop was just scribbling something away in his book, wandering in the general direction of his car.

No, Lovino thought. It was just the wind.

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Thanks for reading, if you liked it or found any errors please let me know by leaving a comment! I'd really love to hear from you. Fans are what drive me to write fanficiton. Also please note that all of the phrases that come from other languages are found on google translate, so if they're not totally accurate don't be afraid to call me out. Thanks!


	2. When the Roads Were Empty

I forgot to mention last time that a lot of this plot barrows a lot from the anime Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi. It's cute, check it out. Anyway, enjoy.

As always I don't own Heltalia

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The roads were all empty, so the traffic cop decided to think.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was a simple man of simple pleasures, who strove to simply do good. Never particularly ambitious or unreasonably competitive (except when it came to football), people gravitated towards him, often describing him as approachable and amiable. Girls liked to talk to him, because they very rarely felt any pressure to be or act a certain way. And in a way, Antonio was proud of that. He liked people to be themselves, and to be okay with that. According to Francis, this made him an ideal wingman. In his career, Antonio had advanced on hard work and discipline alone. As a cop, his only goal was to help people. Sometimes this meant he had spent long hours doing paperwork or training. If it meant that someone else could sleep peacefully, then a few sleepless nights were worth it. He had been this way since he could remember, and that, as his friend Gilbert once put it, was what made him awesome.

But despite his easy charm and relative successes, Antonio still fell like something in his life was missing. It wasn't until his bust of one of the major cartel branches that Antonio began to realize that this might not be a problem he could solve by just trying harder at stuff. Despite the champagne and the congratulations, Antonio still felt like he hadn't done anything. But you took down one of the leading cartel members in this area, someone said. You almost died, a woman gushed, as if that was somehow romantic, or heroic. They shot you six times! It was true, the work he had done was valuable and dangerous, but there was still something missing. At the end of the day, he went home to an empty house (empty except for Philip, his turtle).

It was times like these when Antonio would turn the TV on, lie down on his couch, and just stare at the ceiling. He wouldn't really listen to what was happening on the TV. Instead, he would think about times long gone. His mind would flitter anywhere, from when he was a child, at home; baking in his mother's kitchen, to the summers he and his friends would spend tearing up the town. It made him wish that his work as an agent didn't keep him so far away. Sure, he visited during Christmas, and summer, and a few assorted days here and there, but it wasn't the same. He was lonely, but it was more than just his friends he missed. He missed the feeling of having a home, being settled down.

His boss noticed this, noticed the way he didn't celebrate being the hero. Well, Antonio supposed that was just what happened when you were so used to being a hero. You could tell when someone else didn't feel like a hero. So Antonio's boss reassigned him. Antonio was beginning an 'under cover' investigation of the mafia, though that technically wouldn't start for a few months or so. Right now, he was supposed to be getting used to life as a traffic cop. It wasn't hard really, and kind of a nice break from all of the struggles of his former career. Plus, he was now living in the same city as Francis and Gil, so they saw each other all the time. He knew the ways to Gil's flat and Francis' giant ass mansion almost, if not better, than he knew the way to his own house.

On top of that, just yesterday, he had met-

A bright red sports car whizzed past his little police car. Speak of the devil. He kicked the lights on, and set the siren wailing. In no time at all, that nice red car was pulled over to the side of the road. Antonio strolled up to the window. Inside he could see the clearly frustrated head of a feisty little Italian resting against the steering wheel. Antonio knocked politely on the window.

"Hola, Romano." He smiled as the window was rolled down. The little Italian went from defeated to affronted so fast, it was almost funny.

"Why the fuck are you out here again, bastard?" Antonio thought that perhaps Romano's gaze was supposed to be withering, but it wasn't. He mostly just looked like he was pouting. It was actually kind of cute.

"This is the only road I'm supposed to be watching." Antonio shrugged. He wasn't actually a real traffic cop, so why would he have to do the whole rotation thing? This was just a cover up, for his real mission.

"Why? Why is the only fucking road you're watching some bullshit highway in the middle of fucking nowhere? Nobody fucking drives on this road, this is bullshit." In his rage, the little Italian punched his steering wheel. He tried to cradle his now injured hand without being too obvious about how much that had hurt. Antonio smiled. _Cute _

"You dive on this road." Antonio pointed out. Romano opened his mouth to say something, but promptly closed it again. He glowered for a bit. Then, Romano looked out his front window at the empty stretch of land.

"I drive down this road so I can speed." He huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and began to tap his finger.

"I know, I've said this before but, uh. . . speeding is-"

"Illegal, fuck I know. That's why I come to this shitty ass road in the middle of nowhere!" Antonio didn't quite know what to say. It seemed that Romano fundamentally misunderstood the purpose of laws.

"Laws aren't lights that can be flipped on and off, and just because no one is looking, doesn't mean they don't exist." Romano was rolling his eyes "They're there to protect people all the time, no matter what." Spain pouted, and furrowed his brow. If anything Romano looked bored, as if everything Spain was saying was meaningless.

"There's no one on this god damned road to protect!" He spreading his arms out wide, so Antonio could see just how much nothing there was.

"You drive on this road Romano!" Antonio almost laughed. How could he not understand? "The laws against speeding are to protect you too. It's so easy to get into a wreck when you're driving that fast. What would happen to you if you got into accident all the way out here?" He sighed. "You'll hurt yourself if you do such dangerous things."

"Whatever." Romano folded his arms across his chest and looked out the other window. There was something so familiar about the way he said whatever, like it meant the world to him. Sunglasses were pushed up into his hair. Antonio hadn't noticed that earlier, but there was something about those glasses. They looked just like the ones that-

"Why are you staring at me like that, bastard?" Antonio snapped back to reality, the last of that thought flying away with the breeze.

"Lo siento, it was nothing. I was just day dreaming." He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't even remember what I was thinking about."

"How the shit did you manage to become a cop? Thank whatever asshole is in charge of you that you're not a cop in the inner city. Your ass would be riddled with bullets by now." Romano pinched the bridge of his nose like Antonio's stupidity was giving him a headache. "Day dreaming in the middle of your fucking job."

"I'm more capable than you think." The Spaniard winked, and barely suppressed a laugh.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Romano blushed from head to toe.

"I'm a cop, after all. I passed the exam and everything." Antonio smiled again, not entirely sure what Romano thought he had been suggesting, but enjoying the reaction it got all the same.

"Right . . . Whatever. Take my god damned ID already. I don't have all day." Romano held his ID out between his two fingers, like one might hold a cigarette. Antonio had the ticket written up in no time.

"Do you smoke?" He asked, as he handed Romano the little piece of paper. Romano seemed startled by that question. He looked at Antonio, suspicion painted all over his face.

"I used to occasionally . . . Why?" Antonio shrugged.

"Just wondering. I hate the taste of ashtrays. Have a nice day Romano." Antonio patted the car, and then spun around. Behind him, he could hear the little Italian making vague noises of distress. A quick look over his shoulder told him Romano was blushing from head to toe. Antonio laughed. He had only known one other person to get so distressed when teased. The sound of an engine roaring to life cut out his thought. Antonio watched the bright red sports car peel out of its spot

The roads were empty again.

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Don't forget to comment! Thanks for reading.


	3. There's a Feeling

Right, so I just want to add a warning that this chapter isn't all that funny. It discusses some themes of racism. I would also like to add that I'm not saying that everyone from the south are really racist or saying that they're not.

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There's a Feeling

Lovino Vargas thought about avoiding the highway all together. He didn't drive down it every day, but he was starting to build up quite the ticket collection. Instead, he tried slowing down when he was approaching where that stupid emerald-eyed cop was parked. It worked like twice. Then that stupid officer, Carriedo, if his nametag was to be believed, started setting up in different places. Sometimes he set up farther down the road, sometimes he set up closer. Lovino never knew where he'd be, so he never knew when to slow down. This was getting kind of ridiculous.

"Coffee?" Officer Carriedo leaned against the door, smiling that fucking smile.

"What?" Lovino squinted at him. What the fuck was he talking about?

"I went and got coffee before I set up shop here. It's really lucky you just drove by actually, I almost missed you." He smiled and ran his fingers through that chocolate brown hair of his.

"You bought two coffees." Lovino deadpanned. This was fucking ridiculous.

"It takes me a lot of coffee to keep me awake." He shrugged like it was just that easy. Of course, Lovino knew that was absolute bullshit, but why the cop would lie, he couldn't quite figure out. Was this guy actually some hit mam, secretly trying to poison him? No, if he were a hit man, Lovino would have been dead days ago. There was no one on this road after all, no one waiting for him at home. No one would know he was missing till he didn't show up to work, and even then it may be a day or two before someone bothered trying to track him down. In all likelihood, I'd probably be Feli who found his body on one of his 'surprise' visits. Plus the Monday they first met would have been perfect, since Feli always stops by on a Wednesday-

"What are you thinking about?" Antonio was leaning against his car, head propped up by his hand. There was an intensity in the way he watched Lovino, but not one of anger or lust, like Lovino was used to seeing. Curiosity wasn't the exact word, and wonder sounded too post coidal. Antonio looked like a kid at a toy store, who knew he couldn't buy the puzzle he wanted, so he'd just have to solve it before he left. It was a familiar look.

"Move out of the fucking way, I need to open my door don't I?" What? So Lovino was kind of curious too. He still got that weird feeling about this guy, and he was going to fucking figure it out.

"Allow me." Officer Carriedo popped open the door of the Ferrari Italia. Lovino did not like the look of this situation at all. He did not like the implications of someone other than a valet opening his door. He got out anyway.

"You don't need to open up my fucking door. I've got two hands that aren't broken, bastard." Lovino made it a point of glaring and shutting the door himself.

"Lo siento," The cop held up his hands and smiled "I'll remember that next time." _Next time? Who does this bastard think he is?_ But Lovino didn't say anything out loud. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and pointedly stared away from the cop, out across the hills. This wasn't the most scenic road, but there was still something beautiful about the rolling earth. Officer Carriedo reached through the open window and plucked the two cups from the cup holders. He randomly handed Lovino one.

"If it takes so much coffee for you to stay awake, why are you giving me some?" While it was perhaps a little paranoid to still think the coffee was poisoned, Lovino was far from trusting. People generally weren't that nice to him, and he preferred it that way. It's easier to keep your guard up, if you've got no reason to let it down.

"It seemed like the nice thing to do." Officer Carriedo shrugged.

"Won't you fall asleep on the job now?" The coffee was still warm in Lovino's hands.

"I guess you'll just have to entertain me for a bit." The cop gently nudged Lovino, smiling. Lovino socked him in the arm. "Ouch! Roma that hurt." Carriedo pouted, and rubbed the spot on his arm as if Lovino's hit actually had any real power to it.

"I'm not a trained bear, I don't dance on command." Lovino took a sip of his coffee. It was strong, and there was a dash of cinnamon in it, almost just like Lovino liked it. He took another sip.

"Lo siento, if I offended you I am truly sorry." Officer Carriedo actually looked worried. It was kind of endearing. Lovino rolled his eyes. It was _kind of_ endearing. It was mostly just stupid.

"Whatever." They were quite for a few moments. Lovino nursed his drink, and Officer Carriedo hummed quietly. That melody sounded familiar. "Where are you from?" Lovino asked suddenly.

"What?" Carriedo seemed surprised by the sudden outburst. Frankly, Lovino was surprised as well, but he already asked, so there was no turning back now.

"Where are you from? Obviously not here." Lovino huffed.

"Well I've never really stuck to one place, but I was sent down to New Mexico for work stuff for a couple of months before I moved out here." He took a long drag from his coffee. Lovino rolled his eyes.

"No I mean like, your accent. Where are you from?" Lovino studied the cop for a second. "I'm guessing Brazil." Officer Carriedo laughed.

"I'm Spanish."

"Right, they speak Portuguese in Brazil." Lovino sighed. This was getting annoying. Was it too much to just answer the goddamned question? "I'm not guessing any more, what country are you from?"

"Spain, I am literally Spanish."

"Oh." Now Lovino felt a bit like an idiot. Of course when he said he was Spanish, he didn't mean like 'I speak Spanish'. Ug, why did Lovino always have to do things like this? What the hell was he thinking, Carriedo probably thought he was some racist idiot now. Not that he cared what this guy thought of him, it was just embarrassing fucking up such a simple social situation.

"Why did you guess Brazilian?" When Lovino looked up, Carriedo didn't appear to be offended.

"I don't know, I just guessed." It had nothing to do with the fact that the only Brazilian he had met (which had been in a club) had been flaunting an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. Lovino had definitely not noticed that Carriedo was in possession of a grade-A behind.

"Well at least you didn't just say Mexican or worse." The cop grimaced at the memory.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you how many people asked me if I was an illegal immigrant down in New Mexico." Lovino almost snorted out his coffee.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked. Carriedo laughed.

"I wish. I used to live in a big immigrant neighborhood, with people form every corner of the earth, so no one just assumed I was Mexican, let alone an illegal immigrant. The first time someone called me illegal to my face, I just stood there for a few seconds. I was so shocked." He was smiling, and shaking his head at the memory.

"Please tell me that you punched the jackass after you got over your shock." Lovino tried to take another sip of his coffee, but found that the cup was empty. He didn't really have anywhere to go today, so he might as well just stay.

"Unfortunately he was kind of important, so I just had to take it." Carriedo shrugged.

"Who is so goddamned important that you couldn't knock his racist ass to the ground." Lovino couldn't imagine someone talking to him or any of his family that way. The shit that guy would be in . . .

"The local sheriff, actually." Lovino's jaw almost hit the floor.

"Cazzo . . . No way." Officer Carriedo seemed to find

"Yeah, I had just transferred. He didn't even know I was a cop at first. I had brought coffee, trying to make a good impression. He thought I was a delivery guy or something. God it was so . . ."

"Embarrassing?" Lovino offered.

"What was there to be embarrassed about, speaking Spanish, having dark skin?" For a second, Officer Carriedo looked dead serious. "No, it was humiliating." Lovino opened his mouth so say something, but no words came out. Well what was he supposed to say? God, he couldn't identify. Lovino wasn't exactly a white boy, but he was rich and his grandfather could be a mean ass motherfucker when it came to his grandsons. He felt embarrassed. _Just say something! _But no sound came out. _Merda, just say something! What's wrong with you? _

"S-sorry." He eked out, staring at the ground.

"Romano, you don't have anything to be sorry about." When Lovino looked up, Officer Carriedo had softened, and there was smile on his face. It wasn't blinding like the man's usual smiles, this one was just between the two of them. Lovino felt a tingle down his spine.

"Still," Lovino cradled the cup in his hands, despite the fact that it was no longer warm. "that sucks." Carriedo nodded.

"Yeah, but on the bright side, the look on his face when he found out who I was, was priceless. The man nearly tripped over himself trying to apologize, literally. He ran into his own desk." He smiled at the memory.

"Not that that isn't really funny in all . . . but why was he so bothered when he found out you were the new traffic cop? I mean, an asshole like wouldn't really be so quick to apologize."

"I wasn't always a traffic cop you know." Carriedo took his hat off and twirled it around on his finger. Lovino scoffed

"What, so you've been demoted?" This guy was ridiculous. In all Lovino's years he had never met a cop so easygoing, or so completely confusing.

"It's more like a mandatory vacation."

"Really." Lovino deadpanned.

"Honestly Roma. I'm hurt that you don't believe me." Officer Carriedo pouted, a hand covering his heart. The little Italian rolled his eyes and shoved the Spaniard, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"So what did you use to do? Were you some kind of double, top secret agent?" The idea of this man attempting espionage was utterly ridiculous.

"Who told you?" Carriedo dropped into a crouch, shiftily looking left and right. He was biting his lip in an attempt to suppress that dazzling, dopey, smile.

"It was all of that smooth charm of yours, bastard. You're a real James Bond." For a few seconds, Lovino's eyes were fixated on those lips. Then he was shaking his head, clearing away those thoughts.

"I really was an agent you know."

"And I'm a llama." Lovino's pants buzzed. Without really paying attention, he slipped out his brand new smart phone and unlocked it.

"You're too cute to be a llama." Officer Carriedo said it lazily, like he was talking about the whether. He just leaned against the side of his police car. Meanwhile Lovino had nearly dropped his brand new smart phone on the ground.

"Don't say things like that, bastard!" Lovino's face was on fire as he socked Carriedo in the arm.

"Ooow, you know assaulting an officer is a felony right?" The Spaniard pouted, but was very obviously not all that affected by Lovino's blow. Yes Lovino knew very well that assaulting an officer was a felony, so was blackmailing one, and so was kidnapping one.

"Whatever . . ." The little Italian kept his head down, eyes tracking his phone. There was just a single message from Feliciano.

_Are you doing anything today? _

**_No, I'm finished work a little while ago. _**

_Oh, are you home? _

**_I'm on my way home. _**

**_Why?_**

_No reason _

_Ciao fratello 3_

And that was why Feli's visits were never really a surprise.

"Who are you texting?" Officer Carrido leaded over his shoulder, and the proximity made Lovino more than a little nervous.

"No one. Thanks for the coffee, but I've got to go."

"Is something wrong?" _I'm using my brother as an escape rout because I didn't plan ahead and I made a mistake. I'm starting to get flustered by a __**cop**__, one who's no more than friendly with me. I let my guard down, and now I'm taking advantage of another person's kindness so I can escape my own stupidity. _

"No it's just, someone's coming over, and I've got to get home to meet them." Lovino wasn't about to go running around spilling all of the intimate details of his family. He had not been raised to trust cops, and he wasn't planning telling this guy anything about Feli. As quickly as possible, Lovino shoved his phone back in his pocket made to leave. He didn't even dare look at this cop, because whenever he saw those stupid green eyes he didn't want to look away.

"Roma, did I say something wrong." Lovino felt his hand stick. It was pathetic. Their hands were barely even touching, but that was all it took to stop Lovino dead in his tracks. Lovino couldn't turn around; he didn't want to see the face that went with that hurt voice. He just wanted to leave and get somewhere where he could breath and remind himself why it was so vitally important that he never let his guard down.

"No . . . I just. This person's really important to me. I don't want to keep them waiting." And Lovino hated the way his voice trembled when he said important, almost a much as he hated saying 'important'. He didn't like people knowing who was important to him, because it was just a step from there, to knowing how to tear his life apart. His important people were his, and just his.

"Oh . . . Well, let me throw away your cup for you at least." See, the problem with that request, was that in order to hand him to cup, Lovino had to turn around. Lovino took a few deep breaths. Why was he even freaking out, there was no reason to freak it. He just needed to calm down, and breathe, and he would be fine.

"Here." Lovino scowled and shoved his cup roughly into the Spaniard's hand. Officer Carriedo smiled back a full, cheerful smile. Why was this goddamned person so god damned happy.

"By Roma." The cop waved. Lovino turned on his heels and stomped towards his car.

"By bastard." He said, half to himself, as he got in his car. Before he pulled out, Lovino looked back. Officer Carriedo was smiling. Lovino looked down shaking his head. That man was fucking contagious.

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There's just one more thing I'd like to add about the conversation between Lovi and Toni about Toni being called an illegal immigrant. It was loosely based off of a conversation i had with one of my friends (except in my case, my friend was a waiter working at a Denny's) and I used to help illustrate the differences between how Lovino and Antonio think. Lovino has a guilty complex, and as a rule always blames himself for thing that happen, even if it was out of his control. Antonio on the other hand is less likely to take things personally, and to not know when people mean things insultingly, or when he insults people.

Alright that's it. Please comment, I like to hear from people.


	4. The House Was Empty

Okay second chapter in a row. I've been on the road, so I've had plenty of time to write. I apologize for the fact that the last chapter was outrageously long. This one's not so bad. However, from this point on, there'll probably be a few more ships introduced, some GerIta, a little bit of PruHunAus love triangle/unrequited love on Gil's end, America and England maybe (but probably not), SuFin. There are probably more, but I can't think of any right now.

As always I don't own Hetalia

* * *

The house was empty.

Antonio had come home and collapsed on the couch. He had shut all the blinds, and set the fan on its lowest setting so he just sit in the dark and watch the blades circle slowly. The quite of the house let him think, and slowly his mind wandered to Romano. At some point Gil and Francis had wandered in and Antonio's thoughts had spilled out of his mouth.

"What else did the texts say?" Gil asked, bouncing a ball off one of the far walls. Francis was giving him a dirty look. Gil continued to bounce it anyways

"It said ciao, something in Italian and then it had a heart next to it." Antonio sighed. The more he thought about it, the more that definitely sounded like a girlfriend's text or something.

"It could have just been a friend." Gil offered. "You know, maybe he has a guy friend or a chick friend who's really bubbly."

"It was very . . . touchy, and effeminate sounding." Francis attempted to grab the ball from Gil. He missed.

"Francis, ninety nine percent of the things you text are touchy and effeminate." Gil stuck his tongue out. While he wasn't paying attention Francis grabbed the ball and threw it into one of the other rooms where something crashed. They both winced and looked to Antonio to mouth an apology, but he was hardly paying their shenanigans any attention.

"Fair point." Gil conceded. Francis gave him a look, to which Gil shook his head. A quick silent argument ensued, in which Francis was again the winner. Gil sighed dramatically. "I have an idea."

"What is it?" Antonio sat up on the couch and looked between the two.

"Toni, it's time we paid a visit to an expert."

"Hey Lizy." Gil planted himself at a cafe table across from a dashing woman. Can a woman be dashing? Well regardless, Antonio always thought that was always the best way to describe Elizaveta Hedervary. "Nice weather we're having."

"What do you want Gil?" Her eyes remained trained to her screen. "I'm a very busy woman." Antonio and Francis were standing behind him, fingers crossed that this would actually work. One never knew how things would go between Eliza and Gil.

"My apologies, I know how exhausting running a blog can be." Gil made an extra special show of rolling his eyes.

"You have a funny way of asking for favors you know." A self-satisfied smile graced her face.

"Who said the awesome me needed a favor from you?" Antonio punched him lightly in the arm and Francis made silent angry gestures.

"Well, if you don't need anything I'll be on my way. You know, blog to run and what not." She folded down her laptop and stood up.

"Wait!" Gil stood up as well, holding out his hands in a sign of peace. "I'll play nice, just hear me out."

"I only do favors for friends Gil, it's going to cost you." She smiled a conspiratorial smile and sat back down. Gil followed suit.

"It's not a favor for me." He jerked a thumb behind him to Antonio and Francis.

"Please tell me you're not expecting me to do a favor for Francis." She shot Gil a glare that could easily burn holes through the First National Bank's vault doors.

"Antonio needs help with a boy." She lit up light a rocket.

"Why didn't you say so? Antonio sit down, tell me all about it!" Antonio did as he was bade, and took a seat in between Gil and Eliza. Francis took the chair opposite of Antonio, capitalizing on Eliza's good humors.

"Um . . . Where should I start?" There was a part of him that still felt kind of guilty about this. He was pretty sure it was kind of stalking and also an invasion of privacy.

"Well, what kind of trouble are you having? He's not cheating on you is he?" Her face was the picture of pure outrage at the prospect.

"No see, that's his problem. He's worried that he might be the one being cheated with." Gil interjected. Eliza nodded, completely sobered.

"I see, what's his name?" Eliza began typing things in on her computer.

"Romano." Just saying his name gave Antonio a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

"Last name?" She asked.

"Ah, there in lies the problem." Francis said sighing. "Despite having pulled over this boys countless times, our dearest air head only remembers the first name on the ID." Eliza chewed the inside of her cheek, concentrating on her screen.

"You said you pulled him over? For what?" She asked tapping her finger lightly on the keys and humming in frustration.

"Speeding, like six or seven times I think." Antonio shook his head, smiling a bit.

"Six or seven times? How much were these tickets for?"

"Depends on how fast he was going, they're usually between two fifty and three fifty." Antonio said shrugging. Eliza whistled, long and low.

"Antonio, I can tell you something about this guy right now, either he's rich or a serial criminal." She shook her head and went back to typing at her computer.

"Definitely rich, he drives this really nice car, and his phone was this really nice iPhone." Antonio tapped his

"Do you have his number?" She asked. Antonio sighed.

"Unfortunately no."

"What kind of car did he drive?"

"Umm . . . He told me once." Toni closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow. "Ferrari. It's bright red."

"Do you know the model?"

"Um . . . Italia I think, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Alright. I'll see what I can do. If you want to sit here for a while, or walk around nearby I may have something for you in just an hour or two." Her hands moved to the mouse pad, manicured fingers making a click here or there.

They all decided to stick around, Antonio because he was too nervous to leave, Gil, because Eliza may have needed someone to fake a phone call or two, and Francis because if no one else was going, he wasn't. Antonio had just slipped off to sleep when Eliza cried out.

"Found something!" Gil jumped; apparently he had been asleep too.

"What'd you get?" Gil asked, running around to the other side of the table and leaning over Eliza's shoulder. Antonio noted the one hand on the back of her chair.

"Well it was hard. Your guy's name is Romano Costello, and he barely exists."

"What do you mean?" Antonio leaned forward.

"All of the tickets you gave him were paid for in cash, which means that there was no credit card number for me to work with. Thankfully, not many people drive a Ferrari Italia. No local dealerships had sold one, but I called around to all the specialty repair shops and there's one called Clarence's that specializes in Italian cars. After a little bit of talking I was able to get a last name. Then all I had to do was plug him back into the sleuth's search engine and track credit card purchase to find out what he's been buying and buzz through any social media sights he could be on. " Eliza smiled, glowing with pride.

"Way to go Veronica Mars." Gil bumped her with his shoulder, and if Antonio didn't know better, he'd say she blushed.

"Wonderful, so what did you find as far as dear Toni is concerned?" Francis asked.

"Nothing as far as I can tell. I think you're fine Antonio." Eliza sighed and leaned back in her chair, a small smile on her lips.

"Thanks. I'm not even going to bother asking how much of that was legal." Antonio stood up, sticking his hand out so she could shake it. Her hand shake nearly broke all of his fingers.

"I'm happy to help. Let me know how it goes, I'll be rooting . . . Shit." Elizabeth shut her laptop quickly and buried her face in her hands.

"Pardon?" Francis asked.

"Please tell me it isn't actually Six thirteen and my clock is playing a horrible joke on me?"

"Nope. I'm guessing Sir. Stuffy is expecting you somewhere fancy at six thirty?"

"Roderich," Elizavetta said, shoving away Gil and getting to her feet. "is expecting me for dinner at six fifteen." With almost frightening speed, she tossed her laptop into her bag, and was rounding the table.

"By Lizy." Gil called half-heartedly before spinning around and facing the rest of his companions. "Anyone want to go to the dollar theater and watch a shitty movie?"

"Si."

"Oui."

The theater was empty, save for the three of them.

* * *

If you don't know who Veronica Mars is, that reference probably didn't make much sense. Veronica Mars was a TV show about a sassy girl who worked for her Private Investigator father. If you haven watched it I absolutely recommend it. You'd have to find it online. In this story Elizavetta works part time as a PI, but Roderich doesn't know. She's worried he wouldn't approve of all her exploits.


	5. It's not Fear

**It's not fear**

If you've never heard "I Won't Say I'm in Love." from Disney's Hercules there's a bit in here you won't get. Feli starts singing.

As always I own nothing

* * *

"I just get this weird feeling from him." Feli was visiting.

"Is this feeling love?" They were going grocery shopping, because apparently Lovino didn't own enough 'basic necessities', like pasta.

"No Feli, it's not love." Feliciano had asked how he'd been doing.

"I think its love." It's been a while since he had last visited.

"It's not." All Lovino said was that he had gotten a whole tree worth of traffic tickets.

"It is." Maybe he said one or two things about the cop.

"It fucking isn't." He just casually mentioned the coffee.

"You keep on denying~" And suddenly his brother was singing in the middle of Wal-Mart, like life was a musical.

"Feli I'm warning you."

"Who you are and how you're feeling. Baby we're~"

"We are in a public place, stop singing."

"Not buying. Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling~"

"Cut your crap or I swear to god I'll stab you to death with this uncooked pasta."

"Face it like a grown-up~"

"Feli, if you're going to dance around like some god damned Disney princes at least watch where you're going."

"When you gunna own up~"

"I'm serious you just nearly hit that lady. Feli."

"That ya got, got, got it baaaaaaad~"

"Feli!" But it was too late; with a grand, sweeping gesture Feli ended his song and the pleasant shopping experience of the man standing behind him.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." Immediately Lovino's younger brother turned his endless charm on the man he had just smacked in the back of the head. Glassy tears welled in his eyes and he dashed forward to inspect the injury. There were nearly cherry blossoms and sparkles everywhere it was so god damned contrite.

"It's fine, don't worry . . ." The man turned around, emerald green eyes gleaming in a way that really ought to be more criminal as he gently pacified Feliciano. _Way to go Feli, you just had to smack __**him**_

"I'm so sorry, I was just bothering my brother. . ." Great, now Feli was drawing attention to Lovino. He had hoped his brother's over all kawaii effect would captivate the officer for long enough to allow Lovino to slip away. No such luck unfortunately.

"It's no problem, really." His green eyes sparkled and he smiled. _Damn that man._ "I actually know your brother. Hey Romano." He waved. Lovino definitely did not wave back, not even a tiny bit.

"Roma-" Feli began to question, but Lovino gave him a withering look. If Carriedo noticed he didn't said anything.

"First time I've seen you outside of work." And that fucking Spaniard had the gal to fucking smile. After all the trouble that fucking smile caused Lovino last time, you'd think the bastard would at least have the courtesy to pretend to be an ass.

"Really?" Feliciano's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, clearly alarmed. "You met him at work."

"Not my work, this is the fucking cop that keeps giving me all of those fucking tickets." The cop in question tapped his fingers on the bar of his grocery cart to a meaningless rhythm. He was humming something too.

"Oh." The relief in his voice almost showed. "So this is the infamous officer . . ." Before Lovino could even begin to deny the implications of that statement, Feli was bolting. He called over his shoulder, "I hear they have coffee flavored ice cream. I'm going to go look for it. Ciao fratello!" This left Lovi and Officer Carriedo alone. They stood there silently for a while.

"Fratello . . . What does that mean?" Carriedo asked nonchalantly.

"Why the hell do you care?" Lovino snapped.

"Just curious." The Spaniard shrugged and continued to hum.

"It means 'brother'." Lovi conceded. Carriedo made a vaguely interested 'hum' noise before smiling, which Lovino took as some sort of under standing. Then it was quite again.

"So, you're brother's pretty cute." It way obvious by his tone that he meant it in a teddy-bear and rainbows kind of way, but it irked Lovino none the less.

"What do you want bastard?" Lovino was not going to deal with this now. He was not. That was not going to happen.

"Not much really . . ." Carriedo hummed tunelessly, that same stupid song, scanning over all of the produce near Lovino, until his eyes seemed to catch something. "Can you hand me those tomatoes?" He pointed right behind Lovi. The little Italian didn't even glance over his shoulder.

"No. You want them you'll have to get them for your fucking self." As a sign of protest, Lovino crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the tomato bin. That would show the bastard. His stupid charms would not work on Lovino twice.

"Alright." Carriedo left the probably worthless contents of his cart behind and stepped right up to Lovino like it was no problem. Heat began to creep up the back of Lovino's neck.

"W-what are you . . ." Their faces were close, very close, but then that stupid Spaniard looked past him, reached around him, to the tomatoes.

"I'm inspecting tomatoes." The very intrusive man replied. He pulled one from the bin and held it up in the limited space between the two of them. "What do you think?" Carriedo continued to hum quietly. Lovino's heart pounded in his chest. This proximity was stupid. Why was he even standing that fucking close? Why was Lovino's heart pounding in his fucking chest? It must have been the stupid Spaniard's fault. Lovino just didn't like small spaces, that was it.

"I think you need to back the fuck up." Lovino said, swallowing hard.

"What do you mean?" Carriedo cocked his head to the side; as if that question somehow made less sense then the very situation they were in.

"I mean take two big ass steps backwards, or four to the side or something. You need to get out of my space." And while he definitely brought his hand up with the intent of pushing the green-eyed freak away, his pitiful attempt at a shove just kind of left his hand hovering near Carriedo's shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't even notice." He did as Lovino bade him, but only took a single step backwards. They were standing at a friendly distance now, but for some stupid reason Lovino's heart was still fucking pounding.

"You wouldn't notice a brick wall if you bashed your own head against it, bastard." Lovino mumbled. Carriedo laughed whole-heartedly, a sound that was all together beautiful. And by beautiful, he meant disgusting, revolting, and an insult to sound in general. He definitely didn't like the way that laugh sounded.

"Well, my friends tell me I'm oblivious all the time!" The bastard shrugged and then stepped over to the plastic bag dispenser. He tore one off and dropped the tomato into it.

"They sound charming." Lovino replied, sort of skidding away. "Move over, I need to get some tomatoes too." He then tried to just rip a plastic bag from the thing, but it kept rolling, till he had a whole string of those stupid plastic bags. "Shit."

"Need some help?" The officer asked, failing to suppress a smile.

"I can take care of myself, bastard." Lovino griped as he rerolled the stupid dispenser, and pulled off a single plastic bag. He scowled, why did that come out so childish.

"Okay." Carriedo waltzed right past him, over to the stupid tomatoes and began examining them. "Does this tomato seem ripe to you?" He asked holding it out. Not for the first time, Lovino was a bit thrown off by the Spaniard's easy graces. The little Italian eyed the fruit suspiciously before grabbing it. Their fingers brushed. Lovino's heart stopped. Heat crept up the back of his neck and he swallowed hard.

"Roma, are you alright?" Officer Carriedo leaned forward, the picture of worry. Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope, all aboard the nope train. Lovi was not dealing this one single bit. He was not going to let this happen again.

"Why are you asking me about fucking tomatoes, bastard? What do I care? Here, take your stupid fruit back, it's ripe as shit." Lovino roughly shoved the tomato back at the officer and pushed past him. "I need to go find fucking Feli."

"Oh, um. . . Okay. By Roma." His smile was warm and true, something that Lovino thought rare among people, though in the past few weeks he had seen it more times than he could count.

"By bastard." The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself. He should have left without saying anything. He shouldn't be letting himself grow fond of this bastard. Not again, this was not going to happen again. Head down, Lovino pushed his cart away as quickly as possible, hoping to put some distance between them. As soon as he rounded the corner, sheltered from view by the giant shelves, Feli jumped him.

"What was that?" He complained, while Lovino let out a string of curses.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Lovino sidestepped the question as best as he could.

"I was watching the whole time, Lovi. Why were you so mean?"

"We are not taking about this" His tone brokered no argument.

"Fine, if we're not going to talk about your officer, can we talk about Ludwig?" Feli clasped his hands behind his back and smiled dreamily.

"Who?" Lovino wracked his brain. He didn't know any Ludwig.

"You know, he started working for us recently." Feli danced a head of the cart and steered them towards the chocolate.

"You mean your new body guard?" Lovino watched his brother carefully. "What about him?"

"I don't know . . . He's just really nice and he's kind of stern, but he cares a lot. You know he likes to play football? "I was talking to him the other day, you know, when I was waiting outside the ware house, and I was talking about how we used to play football together all the time, but we're so busy we didn't get to anymore, and then I asked him if he ever played football and it turns out he played a lot, so I asked him to play football with me some time and he was like -" Feli kept rambling on and on.

Lovino made a mental note.


	6. And Yet

There is a list of characters at the bottom if you don't recognize the human names. In the next couple of chapters I'm going to start introducing more and more, so if you're ever confused just check down at the bottom.

Also there are random gangers thrown in and around this chapter, they're really not that important, but I will put them down in the bottom if you are interested.

One last thing. I definitely do not know how the government, or the police force actually work. What I do know about police work comes from causally watching TV.

* * *

**And Yet**

Antonio was lying across his couch. All throughout the house a silence had fallen, not deafening, but comforting. The world was asleep, taking advantage of the last day before the routine struggle began, endless monotonous hours trying to make a living. The smell of breakfast still lingered in the air, and the light the filtered in through his windows was pure and warm. It would be a while before either Francis or Gil got around to stopping by. Sundays were like that and Toni was content to just by himself and breathe it in.

Suddenly there was a deafening crack and a voice that rang out "AAAAANNNTTOOOOOOONNNIIIIIIIIOOOOOOO!" Said Spaniard was so badly startled that he fell off the couch. Still half asleep, he reached for his gun, only to remember he was still in his pajamas. "Where you at brosef?" The voice called again.

By the time Antonio's thoughts had cleared enough for him to recognize the voice, a tall bespectacled blond man was standing in front of him. "Alfred." Toni couldn't help but smile. Of course it was Alfred. Who else would kick down his door on a Sunday? "What are you doing here?" He extended his hand, and Alfred pulled him to his feet.

"I'm here to see you." Alfred clapped him on the back with a little too much force. Sometimes that guy didn't know his own strength.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but why?" Antonio had been settled here for a little over a month. Now would have been a strange time to just drop in and check on him.

"You're mission." Alfred rolled his eyes as if nothing could be simpler.

"What?" Antonio was completely lost.

"You know . . . the mafia thing, where you're undercover and stuff. Got anything to eat?" Alfred ambled into the kitchen and began opening pantries at random. As Antonio trailed behind the wheels and cogs in his brain began to turn.

"But I thought that was just a pretense." Alfred reached his arm into one of the partied up to his shoulder, face screwed up in concentration.

" . . .Pretense?"

"You know to sending me out here, away from my designated case area so I'd have to take a vacation." Antonio had actually kind of been enjoying his time here. The last thing he wanted was to be shipped back off to New York or Chicago.

"Things change." Alfred's eyes lit up before he pulled his arm out of the cupboard. "Why is your cereal shoved so far in the back?" He mumbled as he popped open the box.

"I don't usually eat cereal, that's more for when Gil visits. He hates waiting for me to make food in the morning." This was all beginning to get a bit surreal for Antonio.

"I totally get it. Sometimes it takes Arthur _forever_, to make breakfast in the morning, and even then it always tastes like shit." Alfred crammed a hand full of cereal in his mouth.

"Um, do you want a bowl or a spoon or something?" He sincerely hoped Alfred didn't find the toy, because if he did, Gil would be so freaking pissed.

"Nummhmm." Which sounded vaguely like no, so Antonio decided to press the actual issue.

"So what, now I'm being reassigned back to chasing gangsters." Antonio frowned, running a hand through his hair and pulling out a few of the tangled curls.

"I thought you'd be happy, isn't it your mission in life to take down the mafia or something?" Alfred spoke around another handful of cereal.

"Well, yes, but . . ." And Antonio wasn't entirely sure why he was so angry about this move. It was true, the mafia was the reason he had joined the police academy in the first place. He had sworn when he joined the police academy that he would one day bring an end to their terror. But a voice kept nagging at the back of his head, _I don't want to leave_, _after so long I think I found something that can fill that hole._ Even as he thought it he felt guilty. He had barely known Roma for more than a month and most of their encounters were short and ended in a ticket. But still he felt drawn to the little Italian, his snappy whit and that fire he held inside.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can keep this place." Alfred chomped out.

"What?" Why the hell would he want to keep a house in a city he wouldn't live in or have time to visit?

"I mean, it's in a pretty decent side of town, you'd be a little ways away from all the action, but if you're settled in here, it makes as good a base of operation as any." Alfred shrugged, and put the cereal box down on the table before turning his attention to the refrigerator.

"Wait, you're not sending be back to Chicago, or over to New York, where there was that new lead? What about the mole and the . . . ay dios mio, what was it?. . . The deal! Yes I remember. The big deal at the steal yard that was supposed to be happening up in New York. Isn't that where our biggest threat is?" Antonio ran his hands through his hair again.

"Antonio, you were one of our best agents. You can't tell me you don't think there's something fishy about that intel we got. We had date, time, parties involved. It was everything we needed wrapped up in a pretty little bow, delivered right to our doorstep." Alfred looked up from the fridge just long enough to make his point, before grabbing the milk and kicking it shut.

"You think it's a set up." Antonio leaned against his counter, arms folded. "They give us a lead and we run around New York chasing it while they sit back and conduct whatever business they want while we're otherwise preoccupied." Alfred nodded. Unscrewing the cap on the milk and grabbing a glass form one of the other pantries.

"Clever right." He smiled. "But it's still just a hunch."

"So you want me to investigate and try and find something solid so you can pull guys from the north." Antonio tapped his foot to an old song his mom used to sing to him.

"Nope." Alfred chugged the glass in one go. Antonio raised one eyebrow in question. He shouldn't have been surprised. Alfred always had some crazy secret plan. "I'm not pulling anyone down from the north anytime soon. It's all going to be you. See, they've made a mistake and now we've got the chance to keep one step ahead." Alfred smiled like a kid on Christmas. Antonio couldn't help but smile too. If there was one thing they always agreed on, it felt good to bust the bad guys.

"So I'm supposed to catch whatever deal they're trying to hard to cover up." Antonio nodded. It was honestly pretty brilliant. Use the mafia's own ploy against them. While they're feeling safe, thinking the bumbling FBI is running around chasing their false leads and fall guys, he could catch them in the act. There was still one piece missing though. "What makes you think that whatever's going down is happening here?"

"You ever heard of the Borgia?" Antonio's nodded.

"Who hasn't? I think Rodrigo Borgia was on the news last night for some scandal they're calling the latest Watergate. There's bribery, espionage, nepotism, the whole nine yards. He's supposed to be heading to trial soon." Even on vacation, Antonio kept up with the latest news.

"Not before he stops and pays a visit to dear Cesare and Lucrezia." Antonio's eyes widened.

"They're in town?"

"And staying at the same hotel as Charles Luciano." Antonio let out a low whistle. "But wait there's more!"

"How much more?"

"After you busted Blanco for drug trafficking, his aunt, Griselda Blanco canceled her flight reservations. Had she actually flown out, she'd be getting into town in about a week." Alfred sat on the table across from Antonio, cereal in one hand and milk in the other. "Three of the Nordic Five are apparently coming to town, too."

"I thought they'd been clean since that kidnapping incident." Antonio's brow furrowed.

"Me too, but it's still suspicious. And while we're talking about kidnapping, guess who that last party guest is." A dark look settled over Alfred's face, a look Antonio hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

"Ivan Braginsky." The name settled like a weight in the room. "And you're expecting me to tackle this alone." Alfred shook his head.

"Nearly alone, and if at all possible you'll be avoiding that psychopath." Alfred chomped down another bit of cereal. "For this mission you'll have a partner, and tech op."

"Did we get a new one?" Last he checked their old tech guy had retired to Santa Fe.

"Yep, as Arthur would say, we've got a new Q. His name is Eduard. He's young, and according to the rest of his division, he's brilliant. From what I've heard he's not the most talkative, but you could make conversation with a brick wall. Speaking of brick walls. . ." Antonio bolted to his feet, a smile already spread across his face.

"Is it?" Alfred nodded.

"Yep, Berwald. I knew you liked working with him back during the kidnapping incident so I let it slip that you'd be needing a partner." Antonio pumped his fist in the air, while Alfred smiled. Then something began to dawn on Antonio.

"Does Berwald know about the three . . ."

"As far as I know he hasn't had much communication since, you know. I'm not entirely sure that he'd have volunteered for the job if he had." Antonio nodded in understanding.

"When are we going to start?" Alfred clapped his hands together and bolted to his feet.

"Toady!" He shouted.

"Is Berwald already here?" How could there have been so many people in town he didn't know about? Well, Antonio hadn't really been out, and since he had been relaxing he hadn't bothered to establish a network or anything.

"No, he won't be in for a little while. You however, need to get a jump start on gathering informants." Alfred clapped Antonio on the back. "I suggest you head into town man, there's no time to waste." And just like that, Alfred was out the door again.

Antonio sighed and ran his hand through his hair one more time. Well, better get in shower. There was work to do.

* * *

Countries:

Alfred F. Jones: America (Special Agent, specialized in organized crime and foreign affairs)

Arthur Kirkland: England (British Intelligence, tasked with the investigation and apprehension of Ivan Braginsky0

Berwald Oxenstierna: Sweden (Agent: Works mostly internal and domestic problems)

Ivan Braginsky: Russia (Otherwise known as the Red Menace, he's the terrifying leader of the Russian Mafia)

Eduard von Bock: Estonia (Technical Assistance: he hacks, he makes gadgets, the works)

Others:

The Borgias: The Borgias were a collection of very terrible people that lived during the Renaissance. While the family orriginally comes from Spain they're most notorious for their dynastic rule of the papacy. Nepotism, libertinism, murder, incest, if it was illegal or disreputable you can bet your bottom dollar the Borgias did it. Lovino has already reffered to the Borgias earlier in the story. If you recall the 'Borgia Boy' that was Caesar Borgia. As the Borgias were very important clients of his father, Lovino was supposed to get along and be friendly with the kids. What usually happened would Lucerzia

Charles Luciano: Head of the Genovese family. He's often accredited as the father of modern day organized crimes. He's also the one responsible for splitting up the Mafia into the five families and establishing the first Commission.

Griselda Blanco: She was a drug lord from colombia, and often known as the godmother of cocaine. She was one of the most successful crime lords, and also one of the wealthiest.


	7. And It's Not Happiness

**And It's Not Happiness**_  
_

From here on the story's going to get a little intense. So just, watch out for that. Unfortunately School has started back up, so updates will be getting more sparse. I'll try to keep it at least to a weekly thing, but I am not good at managing my time. This chapter for example? I was supposed to post yesterday. I started writing it at 10:52 last night.

One last note, if Lovi seems a bit out of character here it's because he's trying to extract information from Ludwig, and must be polite in order to do so. He's sort of playing at two games here with Ludwig. If anything confuses you feel free to ask me about it.

* * *

_Dear Madame Blanco, _

_I am sorry to hear that you will not be in attendance for our social. However, I would like to inform you, that this in no way has strained your relationship with our businesses. On the contrary. We of the Vargas family, as our name would so suggest, greatly value family and recognize the necessity and responsibility of your action. Yet we also recognize that you are giving up a valuable opportunity. To compensate for the unfortunate circumstance, I have been given liberty to inform you of the nature and practices upon which our gathering will be conducted. Beginning with-_

There was a soft creek as the door opened. Lovino only glanced up for a second, before continuing to work. Or rather, pretending to continue to work. The scratches his pen made were simply off to the side, not on the actual parchment.

Ludwig stood silent, erect, and out of place, like some hulking piece of rock, dropped into the middle of Lovino's office. He did not speak and neither did Lovino. If there was one thing he looked forward to less then doing his grandfather's paper work and schmoozing, it dealing with this potato-sucking piece of shit. He had to eventually; he had no delusions that he could afford to avoid this confrontation, but _now_. If there was something Lovino was good at, it was avoiding his problems.

Ludwig coughed. Lovino continued to make idle scratches in the notebook paper found around his actual note. Without thinking these scratches were beginning to take form.

"You, sent for me sir?" Lovino wasn't sure what it was the man looked, but if he didn't know any better he would have thought it was uncertainty. Perhaps it was uncertainty. A smile licked across Lovino's face at that. The little Italian was by no means intimidating, but there was something . . . unsettling about his presence. Uncomfortable, as if Lovino was displaced in every step of life. Perhaps there was fear in other, a fear that if they wandered too close, attempted to knock him back into line with everything lese, they themselves would be come dislodged, and set adrift. It was a fear that unsettled people. A fear of being unsettled.

But no, Lovino was just building himself up. He wasn't anything quite so grand. He was just unpleasant. That bastard was probably just distracted. By what? Well, that was why Lovino had called that bastard here in the first place.

"Yes." Lovino looked up for a second, disdain etched in every contour of his face. "I was hoping to ask your opinion on something." Lovino continued his sketches for a few minutes. They were inarticulate and unrefined, but when had Lovino ever been anything else?

"On what matters?" Ludwig seemed surprised by other the request and the pleasantness with which it was asked. Lovino watched as a guard was slowly raised of the man's features. Good.

"Matters that would be too sensitive for others, like say, Feliciano." Lovino set down his pen to stare meaningfully at Ludwig. Now was not the time to be distracted with fake work. Now was the time for real work.

"Of course sir." Ludwig nodded, understanding. Not the fake work part, the meaningful look part. There was no way Ludwig knew he was just doodling shit half of that time . . . Right?

"Good. You're a hit man, correct?" The question seemed to offended the bastard. Lovino smiled. Good. He hadn't offended this asshat enough today.

"I prefer to work in security, though it's not always the cleanest business . . ." Ludwig stiffened a bit more. "I suppose you could say that I've had my fair share of rough dealings."

"Your record says you've had more than your fair share." Lovino jabbed. There was a stiff silence between them. Great, Lovino had to run his mouth off again. This wasn't going well. _You're the god damned grand son of Julius Vargas, get your shit together. How the fuck can you mess up an interrogation this_ _easy_. "What I mean is that you're knowledgeable. You know of people." Ludwig nodded his consent. "I was wondering if you could give me some names."

"Of course . . . But, if you don't mind my asking, why?" For all intents and purposes, Ludwig was stone.

"I don't know how aware you are of our current political situation considering how much time you spend with my brother, but it would be in my family's best interest, my literal family I mean, my brother's, best interest if we had a few cards up our sleeves in the coming weeks." Lovino steepled his fingers, thinking vaguely of the stupidity of this situation. He was asking a hit man, for advice on other hit men, so that he could ward against possible other hit men.

"I see . . .Well, in this case your list will be incredibly thinned." Lovino sighed. He knew that. That was why he was asking. He wanted the best and most likely, and knew that this potato-sucking piece of shit would tell him exactly that.

"Please." Lovino said dryly. "Continue."

"If you want a weapons expert, there's a man named Kaoru. He used to work in tandem with the eastern traders, but he's not specifically affiliated with them anymore. Around the time the Nordic Five went clean, he started to work for hire. His strength lies in his ability to combat multiple opponents at once, though his stealth is also formidible. Still, he's got a distinctive style, and isn't the cleanest, so if subtlety is what you're looking for, don't use him.

"Next you have a man named Vladmir Popescu. Vlad its . . . Interesting to say the least. He has some strange . . . habits. But he is a formidable foe and has few reservations. He's also exceptionally gifted at kidnapping. This makes him ideal if you wanted to send a message, but he is very . . . changeable. Sometimes he'll do something you ask just because it sounds interesting, other times he'll charge an exorbitant rate for the most menial of tasks. Don't rely on him to do anything particularly important, and don't trust him with any information.

"Then there's Natalia Arlovskaya." Lovino perked up.

"I've heard of her."

"I'm not surprised. She-"

"Is dedicated mind, body and soul to the Russians." Lovino tapped his pen irritably. The last the he needed was a _Russian._

"Politically speaking yes. Though rumor has it that there are ways of contacting her. As long as it's not a task that will disrupt the Russian mob, she's said to be fairly accommodating."

"Really? And how exactly am I supposed to talk to her. Just walk up to Ivan and ask if I can borrow his psycho-murderous-religiously obsessed follower for a bit?"

"There's a bar down on 42nd street, where it's said you can find an Scotsman who can get you anything you need, including a meeting with Natalia Arlovskaya. That's no guarantee she'll work for you, but it's a start." When Ludwig didn't continue to list off names, Lovino decided to prompt.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"There plenty of fighters and guards out there, but of the skilled, and more importantly the stable, and easily accessible in a short period of time, these are your best options." Ludwig had his eyes firmly fixed to a spot on the wall behind Lovino and it occurred to Lovino at that moment that Ludwig had been staring straight ahead like that this entire time.

"You're dismissed." Lovino began to sketch with his pen again, the letter resting on his desk well forgotten. He would probably finish at home tonight. Right now, there were only forty-seven minutes till he was pulled over for speeding. Lovino thought that the bastard had probably given him a curt nod or something, but he didn't really look up. Instead he focused on the sketchy image of the back of a person's head. Before the German asshole could get out the door, however, Lovino spoke, reminding himself there was one last matter to settle.

"By the way, if you ever touch my brother . . ." Lovino looked up to smile something terrible and displaced. "Well, you made some excellent recommendations."

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Characters:

Kaoru: Hong Kong

Vladmir Popescu: Romania

Natalia Arlovskaya: Belarus

I am so excited to have finally introduced Belarus. You don't understand how much I love her. She is easily one of my favorite Hetalia characters. And just because this Scotsman will be important later on.

Scotland: Alistair Kirkland

Anyway don't forget to comment. Seriously. Do it. I like to hear from people.


	8. I Can't Help but Feel

*Clears throat*

*steps up to mike*

*tap mike*

*deep breath*

~Call me, irresponsible, Call me, unreliable, throw in unpredictable~

*Drops mike like it's hot*

Yeah, so sorry this chapter is late. I have no excuse other than it was really hard for me to finish, and I kept writing other, later chapters because I would get an idea after writing one sentence of this. Anyway enjoy.

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**I Can't Help But Feel**

"He was so far gone. I swear, Feli is the biggest lightweight I have ever met." Romano rolled his eyes and sipped on his coffee. Next to him Antonio smiled. They sat on top of Antonio's car, watching the wind move across the grassy fields.

"I bet you're not much better." Romano looked so affronted Antonio had to laugh.

"I'm fucking Italian. I can hold my wine." He elbowed Antonio, but it wasn't very hard, so Antonio didn't stop laughing.

"Sure you can, lindo." The term rolled off his tongue so easily that Antonio was only half aware he said it. He had to be careful though. If Antonio used a term that Roma could understand like, bello or amore, even in jest, Roma would curl back into his shell or make up some excuse to get away.

"Stop calling me Spanish names I don't understand." Roma pouted, but Antonio suspected it was supposed to be a grimace or a glare.

"Hmm…Nope." Antonio smiled. "I don't take orders from lightweights."

"I'm not a light weight!" Roma punched Antonio in the arm, though there was a smile on the petulant face.

"You'll have to prove it some time." Antonio winked at the little Italian next to him, bumping his knee gently. In a second Roma was the color of a tomato, and muttering a messy string of curses under his breath. Antonio's heart beat a little faster as he looked out across the highway, leaning against his window shield. He liked the feeling of sitting with someone when it was quiet. He liked being able to just share time with someone. Berwald was set to land in . . . Well if today was Wednesday, then four. Then he had to get to real work. He'd have a lot less time to share.

"Hey Roma." At first, Romano didn't respond, apparently just as lost in thought as Antonio had been. "Roma." A few seconds passed before Roma snapped out of it, looking back at Antonio with wide hazel eyes. "Do you mind if I ask you something kind of personal?" Romano sipped his coffee, and for a moment Antonio was worried he'd never get an answer.

"Sure." The little Italian mumbled after a few minutes.

"How did you pay for all of these tickets?" He asked. Seriously, even for someone who drives a nice car like that, traffic tickets weren't cheap.

"I work for my Grandpa." He said, setting his coffee cup down between them, and resting his head on top of his knees. "He's got something of a monopoly that I'm supposed to inherit. As long as I don't make a fuss, I get a great big paycheck."

"What happens if you do make a fuss?" Antonio began to tap his fingers to an old song. Romano sighed.

"Then I have to use my trust fund to pay for stupid shit like traffic tickets."

"Oh." Antonio wasn't sure why he was surprised to hear Romano was a trust fund kid. Really he should have guessed, judging by the car Roma drove and the nice clothes he wore. But for some reason it still surprised him. Maybe because of how eerie that similarity was to the boy who-

"Can I ask you something kind of personal?" Roma asked.

"Of course." Antonio tried to remember what he had been thinking about, but Roma leaned back, biting his lip and suddenly Antonio couldn't think of anything else.

"Why did you decide to be a cop?" Roma absently fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. In the following moments, when neither said anything, Antonio rememberd what he had been thinking about.

"When I was a kid, I didn't know what I wanted to be." He began, watching the clouds above them drift aimlessly by. "I didn't even really want to go to college." The wind didn't really seem to reach them there. Even when it did rustle by, its touch was so soft that Antonio barely even noticed.

"What made you change your mind?" Roma asked. Antonio sighed, breathing in and out through his nose a few times.

"I met a boy." And there was a smile that quirked up the corners of his mouth, but it wasn't quite a happy smile. "I was working this one summer and I fell for this kid . . . and . . ." And he couldn't quite get it out. "It's kind of a long story." He finished lamely. Romano hummed something that sounded vaguely like acceptance.

"Whatever . . . " He said after a few minutes. "I'm not really going anywhere. You can tell me some other time." He didn't look at Antonio when he said that, and Antonio guessed that was because his face was red. There was a twist in Antonio's chest, an awful pang in his heart.

"Actually . . ." Romano turned to look at him. "I'm being reassigned."

"What." Roma deadpanned.

"I'm being reassigned. I'm not really going to be a traffic cop anymore."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Roma seethed. "Where the hell are you going, bastard?" And Antonio knew it was wrong to be delighted, but somewhere not so deep inside he was touched by how upset the thought of his leaving make Romano.

"I'm not really going anywhere, I'm still going to be living here. I'm being moved to the interior of the city, so I won't be sitting out here anymore. I'll be a little busier than I used to be." In truth he'd be a lot busier than he used to be, but he didn't want to tell Roma that. Antonio still wanted to be able to talk to with him, sit lazily, trade jokes and stories, and smile when Roma scowled. For the first time in forever he didn't feel like he was looking for something, like there was a hole in his life.

"You're going to the inner city?" Romano asked doubtfully.

"I told you I'm a real cop! I worked in dangerous places!" Antonio pouted, crossing his arms and huffing.

"You're a fucking child." Romano rolled his eyes.

"I'm older than you." Antonio pointed out.

"That's not what I meant, bastard." Romano went to take another sip of his coffee, and then realized it was empty. "I meant, you're an idiot, and you'll get your dumb ass shot."

"I've been shot before." Antonio said. "Actually I've been shot a lot."

"No way." Romano said shaking his head.

"I've got the scars to prove it." Antonio reached his hand over and held his palm out for him Romano to see. On his right hand a spider web of white lines bloomed out from just off center of his palm. They looked like a loosely knit ball of thread, wrapped around a hard white center. Antonio watched the changes in Roma's face, and the way his emotions were so easily painted across it. Surprise, first, then a sort of wonder, nervousness and worry. Without seeming to realize what he was doing, Roma reached out, taking Antonio's hand in his, pulling is closer so her could see he could study the scar. Where Roma's fingers grazed his own, electricity scampered up Antonio's arm.

Antonio had always hated that hand, the fact that it had never really healed properly. He hated that it couldn't write his name as well it used to, and he hated that it never held a gun properly. But most of all, Antonio hated what it reminded him of, that night, when he was bound and dragged from his home. They tied him down with barbed wire while a couple of mobsters played Russian roulette with his appendages. Then Antonio was dropped in a ditch, left to die, a bullet in his thigh, and one through his hand. He hated how he couldn't forget that.

And yet, when Roma held his hand, the phantom ache was gone, and the white scar didn't seem so grotesque. Romano's thumb grazed the scar, feeling the bumps and divots of skin that didn't properly heal. Antonio smiled, his heart beating faster.

But just as swiftly as the moment had come, it was over. Romano was rolling off the hood of his car, mumbling something about being late to meet his brother.

"Romano!" Antonio called as the little Italian made a b-line for his car.

"What the fuck do you want?" Romano rounded, back to his abrasive and angry self. It didn't bother Antonio though, he was more than used to all the mood swings by now.

"You forgot your ticket." Antonio replied, lazily walking towards him. He was in no hurry.

"Oh, fuck you." He growled, before popping open the door of his car and sliding into the seat.

"I think you may actually want this one." Antonio leaned again the window, frame, ticket between his fingers.

"Why the fuck" Romano began, snatching the ticket angrily. "would I want a. . ." His face was as red as a tomato as he red the number on the back of the ticket.

"I figured you could call me sometime, you know, if you're ever in need of assistance." Antonio made a note to thank Francis for that line. Romano stuttered something incoherent, and ducked his head, reading over the back of the note again. He suddenly stopped, turned, and looked at Antonio, then back at the note.

"Antonio . . ." He said under his breath.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, that's my name." Antonio replied nodding. Romano was quiet. "Is something wrong."

"Yeah. . ." Romano set the ticket aside and turned on the car. "I need to get home." Antonio jumped back as the engine roared to life, and the windows began to slide up. That bright red Ferrari peeled out and sped down the street, leaving Antonio in a cloud of dust and exhaust.

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If you loved or hated this, don't forget to leave a comment bellow! Seriously, your silence is starting to get a little eerie.

Also did you catch that Romano forgot what his name was in there. Silly little Italian.


	9. No One is Happy

**OH MY GOD I GOT REVIEWS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I AM SO HAPPY I'M GOING TO DIE. **

Well I guess that kind of means that the title of this chapter isn't entirely true, but oh well. None of our characters are happy. Get ready for some seriously heavy stuff and finally some background on Lovino and Antonio's previous relationship.

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**No One is Happy**

_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo . . ._

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, that's my name." The late June sun had shone for days on end, no cloud daring to draw near and yet his smile was still the most dazzling thing for miles. He hovered over Lovino, a hand resting gently on the latter's forehead. Lovino was sprawled out across the couch in one of his hundreds of fucking sitting rooms. The great curtains were pulled shut, cutting off all the light from the pool outside. The tawny gold pallet of the room seemed strangely dull as Antonio hummed away.

"Whatever." Lovino replied, his heart racing like a freight train. His face burned all over, but especially where their stupid pool boy's hand came to rest on his head. It was bad enough that this stupid Antonio was to blame for his passing out in the first place. Now this asshole was the reason his face felt like it was on fire.

"You're welcome." He laughed, a pure sound that filled out the little room. "And you feel pretty hot still, I don't think your heat stroke's over." Antonio sat up, the cross on his neck chain thudding back against his chest.

"There are just so many things wrong with that statement." Lovino gripped, trying violently to control his breathing. He just had to take a breath in and out, in and out, and in and out and _Jesus fucking Crist this is harder than it should be. _

"What?" Antonio cocked his head to the side.

"First off, I didn't fucking say thank you. Second off heat stroke is only like a fever in that your body his hot. When you get a deadly fever, the heat is your body's attempt to burn off the disease killing you, and ends up denaturing your own proteins. When you get heat stroke, it's because it's fucking hot outside, and your body can't keep you cool so the heat outside causes your body to hit about 105 degrees Fahrenheit. Thirdly, I didn't have a fucking heat stroke. I just passed out. If I had a fucking heat stroke I'd probably be dead. A core temperature of 105 needs immediate medical treatment, and since I got better after like, fifteen fucking minutes, I think it's safe to say I didn't have a fucking heat stroke. I just fucking passed out cause it was too damn hot outside." Lovi did his best to scowl, and deliver the information as condescendingly as possible.

"Wow." Antonio re-soaked the wet cloth in the tub of ice water on the coffee table and replaced it on Lovino's forehead.

"Shit that's cold." Lovi seethed. He closed his eyes, the cool swiftly spreading through his head. It helped clear his mind, and break up the thick clot of confusion the stupid pool boy was filling his head with.

"You know you're really smart." The way his entire concentration turned on a dime, frustrated Lovi. He hated the way that this stupid boy could just snap his fingers, and Lovi was his. Lovino didn't want to be a little puddle of mush. It wasn't fair, when there was no way Antonio even _looked _at him like that.

"I'm not that smart." Lovino said, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. He wanted this feeling to go away. He didn't want to fall . . . he didn't want to hit the ground . . .

"It's a lot like fireworks." Lovino's eyes snapped open and he wasn't in the living room anymore, he was on the side of a hill, in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Beside him, Antonio was smiling up at the sky. "Falling in love you know? I think it's a lot like fireworks."

"That makes literally zero fucking sense." Lovino sipped on a soda that apparently he had. Above the sky began to fall apart.

"It's like that." Antonio pointed at the sky as a resounding boom echoed across the land.

"Yes, congratulations you understand English. It makes literally zero fucking sense to ritually blow shit up in the sky and stare at it for hours and it makes even less sense to compare it to love." Lovino rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands. Antonio just smiled and stared up at the sky in silence. "Fine, tell me how fireworks are like love." He said that not because he liked to hear the word 'love' leave Antonio's lips, and definitely not because he liked to see Antonio talk about things he liked, but because he didn't like the silence.

"First there's the flash, all of that sparkle and wonder when you first see someone and they just astound you. Then there's the feeling that really hits you later, like the boom, you know. And thinking about it, it makes sense that you'd get hit that hard, that obviously there has to be sound to the firework, but at the time you were just so blinded by all that light. Then their voice just leaves a ringing in your ear and even after all that sparkle really fades you can still see it, it's still there. You can always remember fireworks." Antonio bumped Lovi with his shoulder. Lovi didn't reply, because that bullshit was all kinds of profound in a stupid and overly romantic way. Antonio began to hum a familiar song. He definitely didn't feel fireworks.

"I don't believe in true love, all of that soul mate bullshit." He said after a while.

"Why not?" Antonio pouted.

"It's stupid. The idea that some asshole is just going to fall head over heels for me. Seriously, whose dream guy am I?"

"Don't underestimate yourself Lovi." Antonio's voice echoed as the world shifted again. They were standing in the pool house, all alone as Antonio's lips came closer and closer. Lovino could feel heat throbbing through his entire body, waiting for that spark, it was all he wanted.

Then the floor gave out, and Lovi was falling through a black nothingness.

"Lovi." His name echoed through the shadow as he fell farther and farter.

Just outside of his reach sat a bedroom, the lights were dark, and everything was still. Then there was a bathroom, covered in blood, a boy sobbing all alone.

"Lovi."

_Antonio . . ._

"Lovi."

_I think I understand. Love is a lot like fireworks, you were right. It's pretty, and distracting, and it burns. It burns you, and it leaves you shaking, and then there's nothing but the ghost of things you remembered. _

The blackness began to gain sentience, pulling and tugging at him. Lovino tried to fight back, but his arms and legs were heavy, tangled by something. He couldn't escape, he couldn't escape, he was going to drown.

"LOVI!" Lovino's eyes snapped open, and the first thing he became aware of was a mirror. Wide frightened eyes were staring right back at him. It wasn't until the other eyes blinked that he realized there were hands on his shoulder. He slowly came to realize that behind the shadows there were things, vague outlines of furniture.

"Feli. . ." Lovino swallowed, his breath slowly returning to normal.

"Were you having a bad dream?" Feliciano took a step back, allowing Lovino enough room to fight his way out of the sheets.

"Yeah." He replied after his feet hit the ground. Lovino glanced around the darkness of his room, forcing the black shadows to take on recognizable form. The sheets pooled in a tangle off the side of the bed, there was a dresser, an end table, a window with curtains pulled shut.

"Me too." Feli said, continuing to stand there and fidget. He sniffled. "Can I. . .?" Lovino signed.

"Climb in idiot." Lovino gestured Feli forward, before tucking himself back in. Feli hopped on the bed, clambering over Lovi's body. "Jesus fuck Feli, that was my spleen."

"Dispiace fratello." Feli mumbled snuggling up under the covers.

"Move the fuck over, this was not an invitation to cuddle." Lovino griped, elbowing Feli gently away.

"But, Lovi~" Feliciano wined.

"I swear to god, I will fucking kill you." But Lovino didn't elbow him anymore, and Feli was more than content to ignore the threat. Silence settled back in Lovino's room.

"Hey, Lovi. . ." Feli piped up. Lovino pretended to be asleep. "Lovino are you asleep?"

"I'm working on it." He said testily.

"Lovino what was your nightmare about?" Lovino sighed.

"I was drowning." He didn't turn around, and he didn't open his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep, and forget everything.

"That's funny . . .Mine was about a fire again." Lovino felt the bed shift as Feli moved around. "We really are opposites aren't we fratello? Fire and water." He laughed a little bit. Lovino swallowed.

"Was it the same dream as it always?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah . . .I thought I woke up and everything was burning, and I couldn't breath, and someone screaming." Feli shivered and Lovino turned over to face him. There were glassy tears in his eyes.

"I'm sure it's nothing feli." Lovino didn't mention that he had nightmares like that too, that they were more than just dreams. He didn't tell Feli that when they were little, so little that Feli could barely even say his own name, their house burned to the ground. He didn't tell him that that was how their parents really died. It wasn't a nice, and simple sickness. He especially didn't tell Feli that it was arson, that a man in a black mask had been standing in the kitchen, pouring gasoline everywhere when he had woken up to use the restroom. Or that their mom had told him to grab Feli and get out of the house, just as the house started to burn. He didn't tell him that it was someone's revenge for the mafia activity their grandfather had been engaged in. He didn't tell him, that he hadn't been breathing when Lovino had pulled him out, that all the smoke had been choking that tiny little body. He didn't tell Feli about the miracle the paramedics had worked. "It was just a night mare."

"Hmm . . . I know, but it's still scary." And a few minutes later the sound of soft snoring was mixed with the slight buzz of the air conditioner.

"Goodnight idiot." Lovino whispered. He closed his eyes, but it would be many more hours before he would fall back into a fitful sleep. When the morning came, it was a blessing, and he slipped from the bed before Feli awoke to make breakfast.

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Hope you liked this chapter, get ready for some emotional turmoil in the next couple of chapters and increasing tensions with the Mafia. Guess who's starting his investigations~


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